With Secrets Revealed
by sorrowsofyore
Summary: All it took was one ill-timed look.  Here there be slash.
1. Chapter 1

A Hester story, spanned over three chapters.

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><p>When Arthur finally realized, it was a fairly normal day. They were wandering toward Camelot through bandit-infested territory, returning from a journey to a neighboring kingdom. It had been a fairly typical adventure, in which Arthur had been attracted to the one girl who was obviously a sorcerer (generic villain #83), had pigheadedly refused Merlin's warnings, and then believed the manservant wholeheartedly when he'd told him that of course, Arthur, ancient iron-wrought doors fall on people all the time. So naturally, journeying back through the middle of the forest in broad daylight, they were attacked. Well, Merlin was attacked, in any case. Arthur, being Arthur, stupidly jumped in and knocked his manservant aside. So, as in the style of their many similar encounters, Merlin found himself sprawled on his stomach, watching helplessly as Arthur fought. He stretched out his arm and whispered one of his simplest spells, knocking away a straggler. Only this time, one thing was different.<p>

Arthur saw.

All it took was a slight turn of the Prince's head, just a quick glance, to see if his friend was alright. Merlin could even believe for a moment that Arthur had turned just a second too late to catch the gold in his iris. But then the Prince's eyes went wide and Merlin knew, and felt his whole world stop with one quick, ill-timed look.

Arthur gasped and stepped forward.

The action spurred Merlin on and he jumped, scrambling to his knees and moving until his back hit a tree. He fell still, unable to look his Prince in the eye and see the hatred he knew would be there. Arthur took another step toward the warlock, hesitated, and stopped. Even though the bandits were long since dispatched, the forest was deafening. The sound of a cracking twig echoed and oscillated like a taut string released from an archer's fingers, and Merlin's breath faltered in the answering silence. Eventually, the boy risked a glance at his master. Arthur's face was blank, and he seemed to be debating something furiously with himself. He caught Merlin's gaze for an instant and the boy jerked his head away, staring determinedly down at his knees. Arthur drew in a sharp breath.

"Right," he said. "Merlin, up."

Merlin's head shot up and he stared at Arthur fearfully.

"Arthur—"

"No," said the Prince firmly. "No."

When Merlin remained frozen Arthur strode forward and grasped him by the arms, hauling him to his feet. He studied Merlin for a moment and sheathed his sword.

"Look at me," said Arthur.

Merlin, for what may have been the first time since he came to Camelot, silently obeyed. He was seized by the intense feeling that his whole life had led up to this moment and that whatever Arthur found in his gaze would ultimately determine his path. Arthur revealed nothing.

Merlin squirmed but the Prince did not relax his grip and pulled the boy closer, as though afraid he might escape. Which was ridiculous, of course, seeing as Arthur would catch him in seconds, but Merlin wisely chose to remain silent and waited for Arthur to speak again.

"You know magic," he said finally. Merlin did not answer, but once again cast his eyes to his feet.

"How long have-you-how the _hell_ do you know magic, _Mer_lin!"

How long have you been a prat? thought the boy nastily, but he said nothing, and attempted to shuffle away.

"No," said Arthur viciously, and Merlin was taken aback. "You don't get to hide from me, Merlin." The Prince growled the last and the boy shivered violently. "Why didn't you _tell_me?"

"You weren't ready to know," Merlin said quietly. Arthur's grip tightened, his eyes narrowed.

"I 'wasn't ready to know,'" he hissed mockingly. "And where did I have any say in that decision, Merlin? I am your Prince. You are my servant." He pulled the warlock closer, and gritted his teeth. "I am your friend and I had every _right_to know something that dangerous." His grip tightened once more and Merlin winced, feeling tears spring to his eyes. "You could've—"

He stopped, suddenly, strickenly, and looked so horrified and so hurt that Merlin felt sick.

"You—you actually—" he paused to breathe and when he spoke again his voice was rough and shattered. "You actually thought I would kill you." Arthur seemed to sway with the weight of his words and instantly, unthinkingly, Merlin reached out to steady him.

"No," he said, very quietly, and it was mostly true. "No, Arthur, I—" Merlin sighed. "You were already caught in the middle of Uther's hate. I couldn't make it worse." He gestured helplessly, willing the Prince to understand. Arthur glared at him, though he didn't move the warlock's hand from his shoulder.

"That wasn't for you to decide, Merlin," he said finally. "But I—I understand, I think." For an instant, the warlock felt his breath catch and his chest tighten and like maybe this was it, and the Prince understood and everything would be fine. But then Arthur sighed again, and Merlin's heart dropped. The two fell silent, watching the woods around them.

"You need to tell me all of it," the blond said after a time. "Everything. But not now. Now, we need to go home and I need time to—to think about all of this."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest—How could they go back to Camelot? Didn't Arthur realize how dangerous it was for both of them now? What would stop the Prince from letting it slip to anyone, to_ Uther?_—but then Merlin caught Arthur's gaze, and wisely remained silent.

They walked back slowly and unsteadily with Arthur leading the way. Merlin let the Prince be and simply watched his steps, the tense of his muscles, the occasional shake of a head or a muttered curse. He lowered his eyes after the fifth, "Goddamn it, Merlin" and chose instead to watch his own feet. Now that Arthur knew, if he did decide to turn Merlin in, there would be no reason for him to stay. He would simply use his magic to escape and hide himself somewhere beyond Uther's reach for a time. He thought, with no small amount of affection, that he would have to watch Arthur from afar, because there was no way the lousy prat would manage without him. If Arthur did somehow find it in his heart to keep Merlin around, things would never be the same between them. After that thought, Merlin occupied the rest of his walk with mourning the loss of the Prince's friendship.

By the time they had made their way back to Camelot, the late-evening air had already begun to settle over the city, winding its way through the corridors of Uther's palace and down through the lower town, drifting over the dust and seeping into the warlock's skin. Arthur left Merlin at the gates to go and train with his Knights and Merlin went solemnly to finish his duties. He used no magic and looked out the window constantly, keeping an eye on Arthur as he charged and slashed at the unfortunate wooden dummy in the courtyard. The Prince's shoulders were wrought with tension. His moves were forced and stilted as though his muscles had locked tight and all of his usual grace had fled. He was, thankfully, no longer scowling, but the look of pure determination on Arthur's face worried Merlin almost more than the blonde's displeasure. It meant that Arthur had come to some sort of decision, and there was little to nothing anyone could do to change his mind. Merlin quelled his panic and resigned himself to simply wait and see what the Prince would do when he finally stilled his blade.

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><p>Merlin met Arthur again as he was walking back to Gaius' chambers that evening. He had just rounded the corner from the kitchen when he was caught and he struggled violently at first, clawing at the strong arm that wrapped itself around his chest and hauled him effortlessly along. It was a moment before he realized that his assailant was wearing Arthur's jacket and Arthur's rings and had Arthur's stupid, pompous, hair on his head. Merlin did his best to keep up with the Prince's brisk pace, but in the end Arthur practically dragged him up to his chambers and only relinquished his hold on his servant to bolt the doors behind them.<p>

He rounded on the warlock then, and for the first time in his life, Merlin found himself truly and horrifyingly terrified of Arthur Pendragon.

"Show me."

Merlin blinked.

"What? Arthur—"

"No, Merlin," the Prince snarled and stepped menacingly forward. "You've lied to me for far too long. Show me. I want to _see_."

The boy hesitated, and Arthur had to restrain himself from yelling at him again. Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes and muttered some words in a language the Prince didn't understand. He found himself obscenely fascinated with the warlock in that moment, when his entire body tensed and he held his arm out in front of him, fist firmly clenched. A light shone from between his fingers, like the first bright glow of a fire being lit in the hearth. Arthur looked up right as Merlin opened his eyes, just in time for his stomach to drop and a cold, awful dread to take its place as he watched the last curls of gold fade back into blue.

"Here," said Merlin. He held out his hand. "Look."

Arthur looked, and wished he hadn't. Because sitting there, curled in Merlin's palm was the irrefutable evidence of a betrayal that he had hoped against all hope he had imagined in a moment of panic. A tiny, burning, golden dragon fluttered its wings and lifted its head to look at the Prince. A tiny, burning, magical dragon, something Merlin had made with his only his breath and his hand and an utterance that could be learned by anyone and used by only a few. The freezing shock of it slammed into Arthur and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed.

"Stop," he said, breathlessly. The cold in his belly surged and he shook his head. "Stop, Merlin, just—just make it go away."

Merlin jerked his hand away and Arthur almost caved at the horrible, hurt look on his friend's face, but then he realized that the man in front of him was a sorcerer and suddenly just wanted to cry from it all. Merlin sighed.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry, alright?" he lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's own. "I didn't ask to have magic. And I just—your father hates people like me. _You_hate people like me." It hurt to hear it-hurt like an arrow ripping through Arthur's chest-but it was true. "But I—I'm your friend, Arthur." The warlock sagged, already defeated. "All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe."

Arthur glared at the boy.

"And you thought the best way to accomplish this was by _lying_to me?" he spat. "Tell me, Merlin, what exactly—"

"Yes!" Merlin yelled. His face was flushed and angry and Arthur flinched. "I did have to lie. If you'd known, I wouldn't have been able to help you! You wouldn't have let me!" Arthur's face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin cut him off.

"No, Arthur," he snapped. "If I had told you four years ago that I had magic, would you really have let me live?" The Prince deflated a little at his friend's question.

"I—I wouldn't have—I'd never want you dead, Merlin," Arthur said, earnestly. The warlock sighed again.

"But you wouldn't have wanted me here," he pointed out sadly. "And that would've meant I couldn't help you, and I wasn't going to let that happen." Merlin spared a moment to glare at him. "A great prat like you would've been dead in a week."

The blond was struck with an odd rush of affection for the boy in front of him, because only Merlin would have the guts to insult the Crown Prince when his life was at stake. How he had been able to keep his magic a secret from everyone was beyond Arthur completely. All it had taken was a single, ill-timed look on his part and—

"Wait," said Arthur. "Merlin, you're an idiot." The boy gave him a look of such incredulity that Arthur almost backed down. Almost. "How did you possibly manage keep this a secret from everyone?"

Judging from the look on the boy's face, he hadn't.

Arthur felt his his body flood with an awful sickening fear and he stood abruptly.

"Merlin," he said lowly. "Who else knows?" The servant's eyes widened and he shook his head nervously, and Arthur wondered how he managed to hide anything from him.

"Arthur," he said. "I can't—"

"Gaius has to know," Arthur said bluntly. "But it's not just him, is it?" Merlin's eyes flicked away from his.

"I—"

"Who?" Arthur hissed. Merlin flushed again and Arthur felt an irrational spike of jealousy. He loomed over the warlock and grasped his shoulders roughly.

"Who is it?"

"Arthur—"

"Merlin!" he shouted. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you won't stop lying to me!" His temper unleashed, Arthur felt like every feeling he'd ever had for the boy was bursting in his chest and he wanted to strangle Merlin and kiss him and kill him and hold him and most of all never, ever let him leave his sight again.

"I wasn't—wait." Merlin stepped away from the Prince. "You—keep me safe?" the surprise in his voice clanged in Arthur's ears.

"Yes, Merlin!" he yelled. It came out harsher than he intended and the servant flinched. Arthur took a deep breath.

"I mean, yes," he said again, softly. The boy looked at him. "I'm going to keep you safe." Merlin blinked.

"But," he spluttered. "You—you're not angry?" The blond rolled his eyes.

"Of course I'm angry, Merlin," he snapped. "You've been lying to me for years." The boy slumped and Arthur sighed. He clasped Merlin's shoulders again, but the gesture was kind and reaffirming and Arthur could feel Merlin relax into his grip.

"You're also my friend, Merlin," he said. "I—" Arthur held his breath and reminded himself that it wasn't fair for him to lie by omission, either.

"I love you, Merlin," he said finally. "And I know that you'd never hurt me, not intentionally." Merlin was blushing again but he looked sick with relief.

"Well, good," he said. He shifted uncomfortably. "So…does this mean I'm _not_sacked, then?" Arthur stared at him and wondered, not for the first time, why on earth he was best friends with an idiot.

"Merlin," he said, slowly, so that the warlock might have a hope of keeping up. "I love you." Merlin looked at him oddly.

"Uh, y—yes, you've said that, Arthur," he reminded him. "I love you, too." He said it was such ease and casualty that Arthur bristled.

"I don't think you _quite_understand, Merlin," he muttered through gritted teeth. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Yes I do, you clotpole," he said bitingly. Merlin put his hand on the Prince's shoulder. "I love you, too." Arthur felt sick and nervous and he knew that Merlin didn't know, that he _couldn't_know, because Arthur had never let on and never noticed anything before.

"Arthur." Merlin's voice broke through the Prince's mantra. "Arthur, I love you." Arthur looked his friend straight in the eye and realized that Merlin must've been good at hiding things, because the magic was one thing but how in the world had he managed to miss this?

So Arthur kissed him, full and sweet and Merlin smiled when he pulled away.

"You're a prat," he told him. Arthur glared.

"I'm still a Prince, you know," he informed the boy, though it was somewhat ruined by way his hand came idly up to cup Merlin's jaw. "Well, I'm still mad at you, anyway." Merlin had the grace to look sheepish.

"But," he began, "you understand why—why I didn't tell you, right?" Arthur sighed and let his hand fall. He didn't answer for a few moments and wandered over to the window instead. Below, the square was teeming with people, preparing for the festival that was in a week to come. He spotted Guinevere—sweet, kind Guinevere who deserved more love than he had for her—and turned back to the warlock, arms crossed protectively over his chest.

"You still haven't told me who else it is who knows about your….thing." Saying the word out loud would still feel too heavy and poisonous on his tongue, but Arthur had to remind himself that the boy in front of him was magic and it couldn't be all the evil his father had taught him.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably.

"Not Gwen," he muttered. "If that's what you're thinking."

"I was actually more worried about someone like Morgana," said Arthur honestly. "I trust her with a secret about as far as I—well, as far as you could throw her, anyway." Merlin glared at him for a moment, but the message was clear.

"Well, it's not her, thank goodness, so we don't have to worry about that," said the warlock.

"So there is someone else," said Arthur triumphantly. Merlin's eyes widened much in the way they usually did when the servant gave an excuse that Arthur always found too ridiculous not to believe.

"No," he said firmly. "Tell me who it is, Merlin. Now." And it really had to be Guinevere, because they talked about everything, as far as Arthur knew, and it wasn't like there was anyone else the warlock could've trusted with his secret. Other than Arthur, of course.

"Lancelot." Arthur blinked.

"Excuse me?" he said, incredulous. Jealousy pooled in the pit of Arthur's stomach.

"Lancelot knows," said Merlin, quietly. "He just-"

"Let me get this straight, Merlin," the Prince spat. "I've been your closest friend for years-for _years_, Merlin-and you decide to tell your darkest secret to a man you knew for a _week?_" Arthur was nearly yelling by the end of it, and he had to remind himself that this was his father's castle, and if anyone overheard them Merlin would be dead within a matter of hours. He settled for sticking the boy with his most vicious glare and watching with satisfaction as Merlin squirmed guiltily.

"It was an accident," Merlin told him. "I didn't mean for him to find out, it just-he needed the magic, Arthur. To defeat the griffin." Merlin looked at him. "I did it to save you," he said. "And Camelot. But mostly you."

Arthur's chest tightened and his glare softened a bit, but he kept his shoulders tight. Merlin seemed to see through it, though, and the Prince couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit ineffective at the servant's wide smile. He sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Just, fine, Merlin. But you can't tell anyone else." Arthur eyed his friend sternly. "Not anyone." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Of course not, sire," he said, spitting the word in a way even Morgana hadn't mastered. Arthur gave Merlin a look of such seriousness that the servant felt abashed.

"I mean it, Merlin," he said. "If anyone else found out and they told father, and then he-I just-I," he paused for a breath, to steady himself. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you." He looked broken for a moment and so unlike Merlin's Arthur that the world seemed to stop. "I just don't."

"You don't have to know," said Merlin earnestly. "If you're not going to get rid of me, Arthur, then no one will." The Prince looked at the warlock's expression and decided that he believed him.

"You should move into the antechamber," he said suddenly. Merlin blinked at him, and Arthur was a little surprised himself.

"What?" he said. He wrinkled his nose. "Why? I like my room." Arthur let out a slow breath.

"Because, Merlin," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It really is ridiculous that a servant should live so far from his master's chambers." Especially when they've been keeping secrets like their affinity for magic and their undying love for you all to themselves, he added silently. Merlin gave the Prince a decidedly suspicious look.

"Alright, Arthur," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll talk it over with Gaius." At the physician's name, Arthur looked up sharply.

"Are you going to tell him that I know?"

Merlin stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"Oh," he said eloquently. "I hadn't thought about that." He looked faintly sick and Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Do-do you me to?" said Merlin shakily. Arthur considered him for a moment.

"How much has your magic helped?" Merlin shifted and the Prince crossed his arms over his chest. "Be honest, Merlin. I think I deserve that much."

Merlin winced and Arthur knew it was a low blow, but he kept his expression blank and waited for an answer.

"More than you know," the boy admitted. He avoided Arthur's gaze, but the Prince nodded anyway.

"Then tell him," he said. Merlin's head shot up, his eyes wide and pleading. Arthur smirked.

"This is your fault, Merlin," he said. "Of course, if you think Gaius would rather hear it from someone else before you got up the courage to tell him, I'm sure I could always-"

"No," said Merlin loudly. "No that's, that's fine, sire." He swallowed and gave Arthur a truly heroic attempt at a smile. "I'll tell him." The blond held his gaze.

"You know I'm doing this for you, Merlin," he said quietly. "If Gaius knows that I know, he doesn't have to hide anything from me. And if you ever need something...special," he reached out and held Merlin's face carefully in his hands. "I can get it for you." Merlin smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Arthur," he said quietly. "I'll-I'll tell him, I promise." The Prince nodded and slung an arm across the boy's shoulders.

"Now, about this whole 'not sacking me' business..." Arthur smirked.

"Why don't you start with the stables?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter out, Hester's been writing something else and it just took forever for us to beta this.

Disclaimer: We do not own or are in any way affiliated with the producers or cast of Merlin.**  
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**Chapter Two**

Merlin didn't think he'd ever worked so much in his life, and really, with Arthur as his master, that was saying something. In the weeks following his untimely discovery of the servant's magic, Arthur had barely let the boy out of his sight. He'd made Merlin move his meager things almost immediately into his new room and for the first few nights insisted the servant leave his door open while they slept, even though the prince was a terrible snorer. In addition, Arthur seemed to have spontaneously developed a knack for popping up in very unexpected places. Merlin and Leon had been accosted while in the armory discussing whether or not Arthur was going to grant any of the Knights leave to see their families. Said Prince had stepped out from behind a shield that had been propped innocently enough against the wall and demanded to know why Sir Leon didn't ask him instead of his servant, who had no business knowing the ins and outs of the court. The Knight had replied, faintly and with a touch of wariness in his voice, that if his highness had simply announced his presence to the room, the conversation would have been much more easily had.

Even Gaius (who had yelled at Merlin for nearly an hour after he'd informed the physician of Arthur's new-found knowledge) had noticed a change in the Prince's behavior.

"I knew when you moved your things into the antechamber that I wouldn't see you as often, Merlin," the physician said. "But this is ridiculous."

"You're telling me," muttered Merlin, hefting Arthur's polished armor against his chest. "He watches me all the time. He still makes me keep my door open at night just so he can hear if I get up." Gaius' eyebrows flew toward his hairline.

"Well, Merlin," he said. "Whatever I thought would come of your carelessness, I must say, I certainly never expected this."

"Expected what?" Arthur's voice rose up behind them. Gaius turned, and Merlin craned his neck.

"Oh, nothing, sire," said the aged man smoothly. "I was just telling Merlin how proud I am that he hasn't been shirking his duties." Merlin glared and Arthur nodded gravely.

"I've been keeping him busy," he informed helpfully. Merlin glared harder.

"Yes, sire," said Gaius. "I've hardly seen hide nor hair of him for weeks. You've kept him close."

"Yes, well, you can't be too careful," said Arthur. Merlin was taken aback by the seriousness in the Prince's voice. Gaius' eyebrows rose impossibly higher.

"Of course, sire," he said slowly. "Well, Merlin. I must be off. Good day to you both." He gave the Prince a slight bow. Arthur acknowledged him with a nod and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"And the same to you, Gaius." They watched the elderly man amble down the corridor for a moment, and Arthur sighed.

"Alright, Merlin," he said. "Give me some of that." The warlock blinked.

"I'm sorry-what?"

"The armor, _Mer_lin," said the Prince. "Hand me some." Merlin passed Arthur his helmet and scabbard as though in a trance, his mouth slightly agape and his brow raised. Arthur caught sight of the boy's face and flushed.

"Oh, shut up, Merlin," he snapped. "I'm giving you a hand. It can't be that surprising." Merlin shook his head and started walking.

"Of course not, sire," he said, politely. "Your generosity knows no bounds." Arthur cuffed him.

"Quiet," he said good naturedly. Merlin glared and rubbed sullenly at the back of his head. "Come on then. We need to get ready for the banquet this evening."

"But sire," said Merlin, failing to keep a whine out of his voice. "We've got all evening to get you dressed. Do we really need to start looking at tunics now? They're tunics, they're red. That's all you wear. Sometimes I think you just go behind the screen and shuffle about for a bit..."

"Of course we do, Merlin," said Arthur, ignoring him deftly. "How else are we going to plan our outfits?" The warlock paled dramatically.

"Wait, 'our outfits'?"

"Arthur." The King's voice boomed from the top of the stairs. "I've been looking for you."

"Good evening, Father," said Arthur. "What did you need me for?"

"I need to borrow your servant," said Uther. "It seems Richard has taken ill, and it won't do for the King of Camelot to be seen at negotiations bereft a server."

"You'd want him for the whole evening?" Arthur had a funny look on his face, and Merlin was concerned the Prince might be sick. Uther nodded his assent.

"He'll attend me during-"

"I'd rather he didn't, my lord," said Arthur curtly. "I'll be needing him to help prepare me for the banquet tonight. I'm sure I'd be able to find you a suitable replacement for your manservant."

"And I'm sure that the Crown Prince is perfectly capable of dressing himself," Uther snapped. Arthur flushed angrily and Merlin did his best to shrink behind the Prince.

"But father-"

"This is ridiculous, Arthur," Uther said sharply. "You will send the boy down as soon as he's finished your armor. I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you continue to display this sort of unseemly behaviour, I will be forced to reconsider the boy's placement as your manservant." Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Uther was already half way down the hall, his back stiff with irritation. Merlin shuffled forward.

"Come on, Arthur," he murmured. "Let's just go."

The Prince didn't reply but followed his servant. He opened the door for Merlin first and closed it behind them, the sound loud and echoing in the quiet of his chambers. The boy looked up from setting Arthur's armor down and saw the Prince turn, his eyes fixed on Merlin. The warlock swallowed tightly and shifted his weight, debating furiously between dodging past Arthur or spending a day in the stocks. Merlin sighed and moved resignedly toward the doors.

"Alright, then," he said in his most infuriatingly optimistic voice. "I suppose I'll see you at the banquet, then." He'd gotten almost entirely across the room when Arthur's hand shot out and caught his wrist, gripping it tightly. The servant paused.

"Arthur, look-"

The taller man tugged, and suddenly Arthur's lips were pressed against Merlin's, their teeth clacking harshly. The boy winced, but then his mouth was filled with Arthur's taste and Arthur's breath and his knees gave a little. But then arms moved to wrap around his waist and he didn't have to worry, because Arthur could hold him up. Merlin tangled his fingers in the Prince's hair and decided he didn't _want_to go, Uther be damned, the stocks would be worth it just as long as he could keep kissing Arthur. Arthur, who hadn't done anything since his awkward confession and had Merlin feeling as though his head would explode if he had to keep waiting.

The boy sighed and pushed at Arthur's chest, parting from him gently. The Prince was panting and Merlin felt him tense. He could already hear the insecurities and apologies about to spill from Arthur's lips, so he held on when the Prince moved back, his arms locked firmly about Arthur's neck.

"I need to go," he whispered. "Uther will have us both flogged if I don't show up for that meeting."

"Nonsense, Merlin," murmured the blond. He trailed a hand through the smaller man's hair and kissed him again, lightly, just because he could. "You're far too simple to be held accountable for something like that."

"Oh, well, if it'd just be you then." Merlin grinned when the Prince untangled them to get a good shot at his head and took the opportunity to duck toward the door.

"I'll see you later, alright?" He undid the latch. "Don't worry, Arthur. I'll be fine." Merlin heard the blond sigh, but he ignored it and went reluctantly down to find the council room for what he was sure was going to be a much less entertaining meeting than anything he and Arthur could've done instead.

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><p>By the time the feast had rolled around, Merlin had thought through almost every single way he might've been able to magic himself back to Arthur's chambers. He concluded that bringing all the gargoyles in the courtyard to life would be a bit extreme for just a distraction, but filed the idea away for later use. Uther hadn't let the council leave the chambers until music was already starting in the banquet hall and more than one of the visiting delegation had been caught staring longingly toward the doors. All of the Knights and nobles stood respectfully as the King swept into the room, Merlin at his side. He spotted Arthur immediately at his seat at the long table, his blond head held high. The warlock shot him his best conspiratorial grin, but the Prince pointedly avoided his gaze, his eyes trained on Uther instead. Feeling rather disgruntled, Merlin looked around for Gwen, making a beeline for the girl as he noticed her standing dutifully behind Morgana. The sharp clearing of a throat made Merlin pause, and he turned to find Uther nodding for him to follow. Merlin trailed after the man reluctantly.<p>

"I trust," said the King as they approached his seat, "that you will speak nothing of the negotiations you over heard this evening."

Merlin, who had been lost as soon as Uther had said "Welcome," nodded demurely.

"Of course not, my lord." Uther gave him a curt nod.

"Good. Because if you did, you would lose more than just your position in this household."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. You may attend to the Prince."

"Of course, my lord." Uther eyed him suspiciously and Merlin shuffled quickly back towards the King's son.

Arthur's shoulders relaxed as the servant stepped up behind him, smiling kindly at his temporary replacement and taking the wine jug from the maidservant's hands. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek and moved quietly away to the other girls roaming behind the Knights' tables. She whispered something to her friends and gestured in Merlin's direction. The warlock caught her eye and grinned, sending the group into a fit of giggles. In front of him, Arthur was tense again.

"How was the meeting," he grit out, as quietly as he could. Merlin moved to refill his goblet and stayed close when he was done, his elbow touching the Prince's shoulder.

"Boring," Merlin told him. "I could barely stay awake. My legs certainly didn't manage it." As he spoke, he stole food from the Prince's plate and the blond seemed to deflate with every brush of Merlin's arm against his. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"You'd think a coronation was boring, Merlin," he said, sounding happier. Merlin rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Because you would've been enraptured," he retorted. Arthur scoffed. "Anyway, did you need anything else, sire?" Arthur waved him away.

"I'll call if I need you."

Merlin straightened and sidled up to Gwen, smiling and bumping the girl's shoulder. Guinevere gave him a bright smile and nudged him back before stepping forward to fill Morgana's cup. She laughed at something her Lady said and turned back to Merlin with a knowing glint in her eye. Merlin shifted nervously.  
>"So Arthur's finally let you loose, Merlin?" she asked cheekily. Merlin blushed.<p>

"Not willingly," he admitted. "Uther borrowed me today because Richard is sick. I feel like I'm about ready to burst, though."

"Mmm," said Gwen. "He really has been keeping you to himself, then?" Merlin nodded emphatically.

"It's not even for my duties, Gwen," he whined. "I'm just with him all the time. He's started to discuss grain counts with me." Merlin gripped her shoulders. "_Grain counts._" The serving girl giggled and patted his arm sympathetically.

"Don't worry so much about it, Merlin," she said. "Maybe he's just finally noticed." The boy looked at her oddly.

"Wait, noticed what?"

"How much he wants you."

Merlin spluttered so loudly that the Prince in question turned to glare at him over his shoulder. Gwen waited until Arthur returned his attention to his food before continuing.

"Come on, Merlin," she whispered. "You can't tell me we're wrong."

"_We're?_"

"Merlin," she grinned. "That's it, isn't it?" Merlin's cheeks went red and he glared furiously at his friend.

"Gwen," he hissed. "We haven't—I don't—he just won't tell me anything!" Merlin threw up his hands. "He keeps me around all the time but he won't talk about why, and I don't want to ask because he's got a habit of throwing things at me and his aim is," Merlin rubbed at his head reflexively, "really good."

"Maybe he's jealous," said Gwen. Merlin blushed harder and scoffed.

"Jealous of what?" Gwen shrugged.

"I don't know, Merlin," she said. "But he has to have some reason to start keeping you close to him now." She nudged his arm. "Maybe he's just afraid of someone stealing you away."

Merlin's breath caught and he stared at the back of the Prince's chair. Arthur's hand moved and he waved Merlin lazily over. The warlock stepped forward, the wine jug suddenly heavy in his hands. He leaned close to fill the Prince's goblet and Arthur shouldered him, grinning.

"What's wrong, Merlin?" he asked. "You look about as red as that ridiculous neckerchief of yours." Merlin growled and willed his blush away. He had to try something.

"Will you be requiring my services tonight, sire?" he asked carefully. "I was hoping I could eat dinner with Gwen." He glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. "I haven't been able to catch up with her in a while." Arthur's expression was closely guarded as he leaned back in his chair.

"You—you're friends," he said. Merlin fought desperately not to roll his eyes. He failed.

"Yes, sire." Arthur's frown deepened.

"You're not planning on telling her anything, are you?" he asked, his voice low and secretive so that only Merlin could hear. The brunet narrowed his eyes.

"I knew it," he hissed. "You're afraid that just because _you_know I'm going to start telling everyone." Arthur looked so frightened at the notion that Merlin had to take a deep breath and remind himself that keeping his secret was new to the Prince.

"Look," he said, "I'm not going to stay with you every minute, Arthur. I'm going to go and spend the evening with my friends. Don't wait up."

But of course, he did.

Merlin returned from eating with Gwen and the kitchen staff well after the rest of the castle had gone to sleep. He was carrying a plate full of fruit, bread and sweetmeats, hoping they would serve as a piece offering to Arthur. Merlin opened the Prince's chambers as quietly as he could, but there was Arthur, seated at his table, glaring at the door. Merlin jumped when the doors swung shut behind him.

"Oh," he said. "Sire. You're still up." Merlin shuffled forward. "I brought some leftovers from dessert. I'm uh, sorry I snapped."

He put the plate carefully down in front of the Prince. Arthur simply looked at him. Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Prince would throw his little fit and then be fine. They had a hunting trip planned for the next morning (that Merlin was going on. Again. For some reason), and the servant was rest assured that Arthur would force himself to go to bed soon enough to be well rested for the outing. Merlin swiped one of the sweets from the plate before moving to tidy up the blonde's room. He managed to throw the dirty clothes in a basket, turn down the bed and steal another bite of food before Arthur finally spoke.

"I'm cold, Merlin." The warlock jumped and guiltily swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Oh," he said. "Right. Well, just let me—"

"Light the fire, Merlin." The boy stared.

"Yes, thank you, sire," he said. "I had thought of doing that."

"No, Merlin." The servant paused on his way to the hearth, looking back at the Prince bemusedly. Arthur leaned forward.

"Light the fire."

There was something not unlike fear hidden in Arthur's eyes, and Merlin swallowed.

"_Ar_thur—"

"_Mer_lin—"

"Fine," Merlin snapped, and the fire was lit.

Arthur jumped a mile and Merlin rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to ask if the Prince had expected a blood sacrifice.

"What—how—you—_Mer_lin," Arthur spluttered. "You didn't even _look_at it!" Merlin couldn't help his snort.

"It's magic, Arthur," he said. "There's not much I can't do."

"There isn't?" His friend sounded anxious and afraid and Merlin thought a little before he answered.

"Not for me so much," he said, finally. "I'm sure there are rules I can't break, but to be honest, I won't know until I try." Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I'm not exactly…normal."

"Of course you're not," Arthur muttered. "Of course I'd find the only servant who's an _abnormal sorcerer…_"

"Anyway," Merlin continued, loudly. "I lit the fire. So, bed now?" He motioned toward the bed. "We do have that hunting trip tomorrow." Arthur nodded absently, watching the fire burn.

"Why don't you just use magic for everything?" he asked, rising to his feet. Merlin put out the candle on the side table.

"Besides the fact that the King would have my head?" said Merlin. "Just because I can do something with magic doesn't mean it's easier."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like taking a trip." Merlin moved some stray scrolls from Arthur's bedside. "I'm sure I could find a spell that would let me just pop up anywhere I wanted, but it would take a lot of time and probably be really dangerous." The boy shrugged as Arthur slipped beneath the covers. "So instead of that, I just ride a horse."

Arthur nodded like he understood, but Merlin could still see the tension in his shoulders and the way he was determinedly avoiding the servant's eyes.

"Yes, well," he said. "Goodnight Merlin. Don't forget to wake me early for the trip."

"Yes, sire." Arthur rolled onto his side and Merlin shuffled quietly to the antechamber. "Goodnight."

He made to pull the door shut and paused, gripping the handle tightly.

"You can always ask, Arthur," he said quietly. "About anything. I'd never lie if you asked."

Merlin waited for a reply, but across the wide expanse of his room, the Prince simply shifted toward the still-glowing hearth.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: We do not own Merlin.

**Chapter Three**

This whole hunting bit was not going well for Arthur. He felt off for some reason, like the forest had turned against him. Every trail he followed vanished quickly, only to reappear in a seemingly random direction. He would've accused Merlin of doing something warlock-y and highly illegal, but the servant notoriously loathed these excursions with Arthur and his Knights, and as such had no reason to prolong their trip. The boy had been oddly quiet after the first hour or so of trudging around carrying Arthur's crossbow when he sidled up to the Prince.

"We should go home, Arthur," he said seriously. "I don't like the feeling of these woods."

"The feeling of 'these woods'?" said the blond archly, ignoring the twinge in his gut. "As opposed to the other woods we usually hunt in?"

"You know what I mean," the boy snapped. "Come on. I've just—you should trust me on this." Arthur shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Merlin," he said, bringing the servant to the side. "Just because I know about your…thing now doesn't mean I'm going to go out of my way to make you feel better every time you get a tingle." Merlin glared at him.

"It's not—I don't get _tingles_, Arthur," he hissed. "Something is _wrong_ here, and I can _feel_ it and you're not _listening _to me."

"Everything alright here, sire?" Arthur turned to Sir Owen, who had been drawn over by Merlin's rapidly rising voice.

"Yes, thank you, Owen," said the prince curtly. "You'd think that the princess here would be used to walking by now, but alas, he's still Merlin."

"Ah," said Owen. "Well, sire, when you're done here we've found some odd tracks heading East."

"Toward Camelot?"

"Indeed, sire."

"Probably something nasty, then," Arthur muttered darkly. "Show me."

He left his glowering manservant and was busy puzzling over an ominously wide set of marks in the mud when hoof beats sounded behind them.

Merlin whipped around just in time to catalogue the rider's clothes—long billowing cloak, staff gripped tightly in his fist, obviously a sorcerer—before an arrow came flying toward his head. The warlock ducked, shouting for Arthur and the Knights. Another well-aimed projectile went whizzing past his ear and Merlin threw himself onto the forest floor, crawling forward on his elbows. A Knight came rushing up from behind him and hauled him to his feet.

"Run, Merlin," Sir Kay shouted. "You'll be of no help to us here." He hurried away before Merlin could protest, heading for the fray. The sorcerer had dismounted, and there were men coming from the woods around them, swords and crossbows raised as they headed for the Prince and his Knights.

Merlin was up and sprinting with barely a thought with his arm outstretched, magic burning in the center of his palm. Arthur caught sight of him and glared, yelling for him to leave. Merlin ignored him and sent one of the swordsmen flying into a sorcerer was performing his own spells rapidly, protecting his men and leveling Arthur's Knights. Sir Bedevere went down and Merlin swiftly dispatched his assailant, picking up a stray sword as he joined the fight. He strengthened the blade with a softly muttered spell and made his way to the prince. Merlin concentrated on blocking the spells being thrown at them and hoped desperately that none of the Knights would notice.

The warlock moved until he was back-to-back with Arthur and swung his sword wildly while Knights and enemy men went down around them. Merlin watched Sir Kay start to fall. The brunet's eyes flashed and everything slowed down. He saw as the spell burst over the Knight's chest and spread, forcing the man's eyes shut and slowing his breathing to a deep, steady rhythm. He backed into Arthur and deftly blocked another spell that came flying towards the Prince.

"Arthur," Merlin hissed. "They're sleeping spells."

"Merlin, don't prattle on while we're—" he swung his sword, catching a grunt in the ribs. "Fighting."

"I'm not prattling on!" said Merlin. There was one Knight remaining, and he was fighting with a seriously injured leg. "I'm trying to tell you something important!"

The last Knight fell and Merlin and Arthur paused, chests heaving. The still-standing henchmen surrounded the two with their weapons raised.

"Well," said Arthur. "I guess now's as good a time as ever."

"They were sleeping spells, Arthur," the warlock whispered. "He wasn't killing the Knights; he was knocking them out."

"Good to know," said Arthur. "They're still alive. Now we can _all_go back to my father and tell him how the Knights of Camelot were bested by less than twenty men."

"What a splendid idea, Prince Arthur," said the sorcerer, turning with a whirl of his cloak. Merlin sneered nastily and stepped forward, pushing Arthur behind him. The Prince felt his stomach clench in panic.

"Merlin, what the hell are you doing!" he hissed. The boy ignored him.

"Leave. Now." The sorcerer laughed and conjured a crackling blue light to his palm. Merlin scoffed and Arthur gripped his arm.

"Merlin, _shut _up," he snapped. The Prince turned to the sorcerer still holding the spell in his hand. "Don't listen to him, he's an idiot." The man smirked.

"I mean it," said Merlin. "Leave."

"And what exactly do you plan on doing against me, boy?" The man asked, his face turning dark. Arthur felt sick as the sorcerer raised his hand toward Merlin, his spell sparking.

"Merlin, get back," Arthur growled, yanking the boy's arm. Merlin rounded on the Prince.

"And what exactly do _you_expect to do, swing a sword at him?" He yelled. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"No, Merlin, I'm going to whack him round the head with a tree branch. _Yes_that's what I plan to do!" Arthur snapped. Merlin glowered at him.

"Come on, Arthur, even he's going to be able to stop a sword!"

The sorcerer growled.

"You insolent little—"

"Shut up!" Merlin yelled, his eyes flashing. He whirled back to Arthur, who was staring behind the warlock, his eyes wide. "Look, you can't just—"

"Uh, Merlin," he said.

"What!" Arthur winced.

"Look." Merlin looked.

The sorcerer and his wayward men were out cold, lying limp and still on the ground, their weapons strewn about them. Merlin stood there a minute, aghast, before Arthur took pity on him and wrapped a hand around the servant's elbow.

"Come on, Merlin," he said as his heart rate returned to normal. "Let's rouse the Knights and get out of here quickly."

Thankfully, the sorcerer's spells hadn't been very powerful, and it only took a few minutes to get the Knights awake. As they made their way warily back to Camelot, Arthur could hear something different about the forest. He watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye, and felt his chest constrict every time one of the Knights clapped the boy on the back or leaned against the brunet for support. It had only taken an instant for Arthur to discover Merlin's secret, and his men had fought alongside the servant's magic. The Prince forced himself to stay an acceptable distance from his friend and reminded himself repeatedly that keeping the boy locked in the castle for the rest of his life would only be counterproductive, mostly because Merlin would find a way out.

They arrived back in Camelot much later with less game and lower spirits than they had anticipated. Arthur arranged to have the sorcerer taken to the King and deigned to go back to his chambers with Merlin, citing the long day for his fatigue.

"So," murmured the Prince as he and the warlock made their way slowly through the castle. "About the whole, um, 'tingles' thing, I—"

"Arthur," said Merlin testily, and the blond held up his hands.

"I was going to say that I'm—I'm sorry, Merlin." Arthur opened the doors to his room. "I didn't trust you when you said something was wrong and it won't happen again." He shut the doors and clapped Merlin on the back. "And if you ever do something like that again, I'll skin you."

Merlin gave him a sarcastic look, and Arthur felt his cheeks start to heat up.

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I save your life, sire," he said. Arthur released Merlin's shoulders.

"I mean it, Merlin," the Prince spat. "I don't want you to do anything that bloody stupid ever again."

"But—" Merlin started.

"No," Arthur rose up to his full height, using his bulk to tower over his servant. "The next time you decide to take on a _bloody sorcerer_, maybe you should—"

"In case you haven't noticed, _I'm_a 'bloody sorcerer'," Merlin hissed. Arthur fell silent. "Look, Arthur." The brunet crossed his arms. "I know you're worried. But I've been keeping you safe from magic for years. Just because you've finally noticed doesn't mean that's going to change."

The Prince took a deep breath through his nose and sat down heavily in his favorite chair. He ran a hand through his hair.

"You cannot be careless, Merlin," he grit out finally. "The Knights were _right there_. What if one of them had seen you?"

"But they didn't."

"But I did!" Arthur exploded. "Why can't you get it through your idiot head that I'm trying to keep you safe!"

He stood and began pacing, his footsteps furious and echoing. Merlin was standing frozen next to the bed.

"That's not your responsibility, Arthur," he said quietly. "No matter what you think of me, I can take care of myself."

Arthur stopped his pacing, standing directly in front of his friend, simmering. He stood there for a long moment, studying the boy's face and taking slow, measured breaths. Eventually, he pulled his friend into his chest.

"It is my responsibility," he murmured, ignoring Merlin's quiet protest. "It really is."

"Why? Because you're a royal prat?" asked Merlin sullenly, his voice muffled by Arthur's chest. The Prince rolled his eyes and buried his nose in Merlin's hair.

"No," he said. "Because you're my—Merlin. Because you're Merlin and I'm Arthur and that's how I want it to be."

The warlock gave a quiet snort.

"So it is because you're a royal prat, then." Arthur opened his mouth to retort and Merlin shushed him. "You're just a romantic one."

Arthur's cheeks started to go red and he violently stifled the blush.

"Whatever," he said, petulantly. Arthur pulled away and tugged at the boy's sleeve. "Come on, Merlin. I'm tired. Go get us some supper and draw us a bath, and then we'll go to bed." Merlin raised a brow.

"What, are you planning to have me bathe with you now too?"

"And warm my bed, if I'm lucky," Arthur deadpanned, and he relished in Merlin's answering blush. "Now hurry up, Merlin. The sooner you get to work, the sooner we get to sleep."

"Yes sire." Merlin hurried out the door.

Arthur opened his mouth to make another quip at the warlock's expense, but he was distracted by the bath, which had filled itself and was now steaming invitingly next to the changing screen.

* * *

><p>Waking up with Merlin was not like Arthur had expected it to be. The boy was surprisingly peaceful when he slept, and his normally flailing limbs were still and curled about his body. Arthur let out a contented breath and tightened his arms around Merlin's waist. The Prince slid one of his hands down to stroke the warlock's hip just to feel his skin beneath his fingertips. He let his palm rest there, warm and heavy, and imagined years and years of other mornings beginning the same way. Merlin stirred and shifted into the blonde's touch. His breathing quickened slightly and Arthur smiled into the boy's hair, unwilling as of yet to move.<p>

"Morning," he murmured. Merlin stretched languidly, his body moving against Arthur's.

"Morning," the warlock replied lazily. He snuggled back into the prince and they lay for a long moment in comfortable silence. Merlin moved against him again and the blond felt himself begin to flush.

"So, about last night," said Arthur, clearing his throat awkwardly. Merlin rolled to face his friend and the blond held his breath.

"I am _not_moving my things again," he said, very seriously. Arthur choked and Merlin started to giggle.

"Oh, very funny, _Mer_lin," the Prince muttered. Merlin, still giggling, slid out of reach before Arthur could cuff him and padded quickly into the antechamber. He emerged a few moments later clad in a pair of ratty trousers and a tunic. Arthur felt a small pang of disappointment at the loss of his good view, and smirked widely when he realized he'd get to see it again. Merlin caught his look and rolled his eyes as he rummaged through the prince's wardrobe.

"What?" he said, suspiciously. Arthur pushed himself up, letting the blankets pool in his lap.

"Nothing," said the blond. A pair of pants was thrown in his general direction and Arthur caught them with practiced ease. He pulled them on as he watched Merlin bustle around the room, tidying up and shivering in the unusually cold morning.

"You could light the fire, Merlin," Arthur said abruptly. The boy turned to him, a bewildered look on his face.

"You want me to go and fetch kindling just because it's chilly?" he asked, indignant. Arthur shook his head and stepped toward his friend hesitantly.

"No," he said. His voice was careful, measured. "You could just—light it. Like you did before." Merlin froze; his face shifting into an unreadable expression that Arthur realized was not entirely unfamiliar.

"You want me to light it with magic."

"With magic," Arthur confirmed. He stepped cautiously forward again. "You can use magic around me, Merlin," he said haltingly. "When we're alone." Merlin stared at him, face still carefully blank.

"I don't know, Arthur," he said finally. "That might not be a good idea." The Prince shook his head.

"I want to learn," he said. "I don't—I still don't know how I feel about sorcerers in general. But maybe," Arthur felt his heart clench as old fear and older aversion crept into his mind. "Maybe if it's you, it'll be different."

Merlin remained silent and Arthur took a deep breath.

"I'm not saying anything will happen right away," he said. "But my father—he was wrong about magic. And when I'm King," Merlin sucked in a tiny, fragile breath, and Arthur paused before continuing. "When I'm King things may be different. Some day."

Merlin's face broke into a smile and Arthur felt the pressure in his chest lessen. He pulled the warlock to him and pressed his lips to the boy's gently.

"Thank you, sire," said Merlin, and Arthur knew in that moment that he would change everything for just the feeling of a servant's heartbeat next to his.

* * *

><p>Last update for a while. Hester's currently working on a Glee fic that's her idea entirely. I would say it's a monster length fic but it's got nothing on the one I'm currently developing. The Glee fic is going to be starting pretty soon but we want to have a reserve of chapters before we start uploading so that there's a consistent gap between updates.<p>

Thanks for reading! Drop a review?


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